A Static Insanity
by Claire Darcy
Summary: Lily and James are still alive, having removed themselves from the wizarding world in an attempt to protect their son from Voldemort. What happens when Harry inadvertently stumbles into the world he is rightly a part of and the life he's been kept from?AU


_I've taken it upon myself to just upload all the stuff I've been working on lately. This is an AU fic -- decided I need to practice a bit on those. It'll be HPSS eventually, a bit of RLSS if you squint...Enjoy the fic. (Personally, I think it's no good, but it's funny, so what the hell.)_

_The universe, the characters, and Severus Snape all belong to people who are not me. Sorry._

HPSSHPSS

I've been thinking about it for the last few minutes, and I'm convinced that I have never felt quite as guilty as I do right now. This is considering all the times I've turned down a Christmas dinner offer from my mother, claiming I've had too much work to do, when really all I wanted was to avoid my father's annual rant of why I've fucked my life up beyond repair. Right now, I'm standing over some stranger's bed in the ICU, hoping to God he doesn't die. If I had to add murder to my list of things I'll probably be going to Hell for, I might have to start feeling sorry for myself.

I suppose I should be a little bit more accurate. It wasn't exactly murder, per se. I'd completely lost control of my car while rounding a corner in the pouring rain. Now what this guy was doing walking around outside in the pouring rain is beyond me, but the point is, I ran into him (though I think even _pummeled_ would be too weak a verb) and earned him a one-month stay in the ICU of Saint Mary's Hospital.

Despite the massive amount of guilt I can actually feel closing in on me, I've got no bloody clue why I'm here, in the stranger's hospital room. I've been here since a team of nurses pronounced me unscathed (obviously; I was the one in the vehicle, after all), and I suspect my conscience won't let me leave until this guy has woken up so I can apologize properly.

The monitors over his bed are beeping faithfully with every heartbeat, reassuring me that he isn't dead; yet. The man has dark hair – nearly as black as my own, it would seem – and pale, sallow skin, as though he makes a habit of only going out-of-doors when it's dark. And raining, apparently. I realize that I don't know what his name is, and I decide that if I plan on sitting here for a while, I should rightly be on a first name basis. So I push myself out of my seat, and wander towards the clipboard on the end of his bed.

I read the name several times over before deciding that whoever would willingly name their child _Severus Snape_ could not have possibly had his best interests in mind.

As I set the clipboard down, I hear a strangled sort of groan from the bed. Severus is squinting against the bright lights in the room, his mouth twisted into a grimace of pain. I move to dim the lights some before returning to my seat beside the bed. After several tense moments, Severus cracks a dark eye open to peer over at me.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Really, I can't imagine why he's so eager to make _this_ impression on me first, but who am I to complain? I'm the one who hit him with a motor vehicle, after all.

So, I blink a few times, before answering, quite cleverly, "Uh, Harry."

I can only imagine what it would be like to wake up in the hospital, with a strange man who looks rather hung-over hovering over you, while in some very real pain. But instead of attempting to redeem myself, as would be logical, I smile blandly, and say,

"Sorry about all this."

A bitter smile forms on Severus' thin lips, and he says, "So you're the dumb-fuck who drove his car into my hip then, are you?"

I'm beginning to wonder if he's even supposed to be conscious right now. Maybe if I up his morphine a little, he'll stop talking. I rather liked his attitude when he'd been sleeping.

I glance back down at Severus, to see he's giving me a bleary-eyed scowl. Clearly, he's been working on this particular expression for quite some time – I've got the strangest urge to go cower in the corner lest this man unleash his wrath.

"I didn't do it on purpose," I offer weakly. Severus snorts indelicately, which seems to irritate his broken nose. Letting out an unintelligible string of curses, he renews his glare and proceeds to ignore me.

After several moments pass in uncomfortable silence, I decide it would be prudent of me to get the hell out of that room. I stagger to my feet, awkwardly glancing anywhere but at the figure in the bed before me. He seems to be sleeping, but the unevenness of his shallow breaths give him away.

"Er. I'll just be going then." Severus grunts a bit, effectively getting his message across – he doesn't give a shit. "Right." And without a backward glance, I get the fuck out of the hospital and speed towards my flat.

HPSSHPSS

Six minutes. Six minutes I've been standing outside Severus' hospital room door. Thirteen times my hand has raised to knock of its own accord. Forty-seven times I've seriously contemplated walking away. So what the hell am I still doing here?

I couldn't sleep last night. Not like this is an unusual occurrence – the majority of my nights are filled with nightmares of demons and death. Certainly not something I can tell any therapist if I want to avoid the loony bin.

Last night was different, though. Last night, my dreams were wrought with images of a tall, dark man, with piercing black eyes. His voice was like smooth velvet caressing me with every syllable. Of course, now, this sounds completely ridiculous. So what if the man from my dreams bears some resemblance to Severus Snape? What right does that give me to come here? And what exactly is it that I plan to ask him? 'Do you believe in magic?'

Yes. Loony bin, here I come.

"Are you here to see Severus?"

My head whips around, and I am surprised to see a slightly taller man cradling a bouquet of flowers in his arms. He's dressed in a tattered brownish tweed suit, which looks suspiciously threadbare in some places. The thinning mousy brown hair is partially hidden under a ratty old hat.

"Oh, er…"

The man smiles, and says, "Open that door for me, would you?" I pause for another moment before pushing open the door, and entering the room. It's dark, all the curtains are drawn, and Severus appears to be sleeping. The man from the hall unceremoniously tosses the flowers on the windowsill. "Oi, Snape," he says exasperatedly, "Why the hell are you still sleeping? You're not supposed to be in a coma, man."

A frustrated grunt comes from the bed. "Not in a coma, Lupin. I just fucking hurt." Severus shifts a bit, but his eyes are still closed. "Some lunatic hit me with a car, what do you expect from me? Goddamn muggles."

Muggles…?

"Er, Severus…" the other man starts, thinks better of it, and asks, "So they didn't catch the guy then?"

Severus snorts. "Let him go. He was here last night." Slowly, he opens his eyes, first looking at the man beside me, before turning his bleary-eyed gaze on me. "In fact, said lunatic is standing right there."

Oh, Christ.

The man called Lupin turns to me, but instead of the anger I expect to find on his features, I see only amusement. "Well done. I never would have had the guts to hit him with, well, anything, really." He chuckles softly as he moves to the chair beside Severus' bed. Once he's settled, he looks back at me, curiously. "What's your name? You look quite familiar. Doesn't he look familiar, Snape?"

Severus grunts again.

"Sorry," I offer my hand, "I'm Harry Potter."

Now, usually, when a person introduces themselves to you, you respond with 'how lovely to meet you,' and the like. Clearly these two missed out that day in etiquette class. Instead, they are staring at me like I've suddenly announced that I enjoy shagging trees.

Severus is the first to recover. "Of course he's a fucking Potter."

That certainly doesn't bode well for me.

"Harry." Lupin is coming towards me, his hands outstretched. I back against the wall, slightly disconcerted. What is it about my name that inspires such a reaction in these two?

"I, uh, should be going –"

"Where are they, Harry?" I look at Lupin, confused.

"I'm sorry?"

"James and Lily."

Right. Wasn't expecting this. "How do you know my parents?"

"Answer the question, Potter, or he's likely to short circuit." The disdain in Severus' voice sounds so practiced….and so familiar. It's the drawl from my dream.

"Um. My parents…they live in Normandy."

"France?" Lupin sounds surprised. "I thought James hated France."

I smirk. "He does." This is too surreal. How is it these two know my parents, yet I have no fucking clue who they are? "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Lupin looks at me uneasily, and beyond him I can see that Severus is feigning sleep again. Yeah, OK.

"Harry, this is something your parents –"

"No." I'm done. I'm sick of being left in the dark about everything. Answers will be forthcoming _now_. All attempts at civility are gone from my voice as I continue, "you are going to tell me yourself, or I'll make sure that contact with my parents will be impossible."

Judging by the mix of shock and terror on Lupin's face, my blind shot hit right on. Hello, advantage. "Now, Harry, let's not –"

"Tell me now, and I won't."

Lupin continues to look nervously between me and the door, as though he's plotting his escape. After several seconds of tense silence, Severus grumbles, "Oh for fuck's sake. Lupin if you don't –"

"OK, OK." Taking a deep breath, Lupin meets my gaze. "Harry, you are a…a wizard."

I suppose any normal person's reaction would be something close to 'right, and have you met my sister, the Queen's nephew?' Instead, I stand slack jawed, trying to process this bit of information. A wizard?

"You don't mean like…like…" _magic_.

Severus lets out a frustrated sigh. "Like wands and mythical creatures. Lupin here's a werewolf."

Lupin spins on his heel, and hisses, "Severus!"

"I'm on opiates," he says, feigning repentance. "I cannot be held responsible for my actions."

"My parents, do they know?"

"Your mother and father," Lupin says gently, stepping away from the bed, "are two of the most powerful wizards I have ever known."

"I see."

Kill them. I'm going to fucking _kill_ them. How could they even _think_ to keep something like this from me? This is beyond lying. This is outright betrayal.

Sensing my distress, Lupin intervenes, "Harry you must understand that…"

But I'm no longer listening. Storming outside to the sidewalk, I hastily pull out my phone and punch in my parents' number. How dare they…

"Allo?"

"What the fuck were you fucking thinking?"

"Harry," my mother admonishes harshly, "watch your language."

"Do not," I seethe, "tell me what to do until you've explained some things to me." There is a pause on the other end; no doubt, my mother is waiting for the reason behind my vehemence. "I ran into this bloke today. Name's Lupin."

A gasp. "Oh?"

Yes, mother, by all means, put on a front of innocence. It won't make the blow any easier.

"Yeah. He told me some things that were rather interesting."

"Oh Harry –"

"So I repeat, what the fuck were you fucking thinking?"

My mother gives a resigned sigh. "Harry, it would be much better if we didn't discuss this over the phone."

"Sure," I scoff, "I'll just get on the next flight to Normandy, then, shall I?"

"Harry…Is Lupin still around?"

I run a hand over my eyes. "Yes, mother."

"Tell him to bring you here. He'll know what to do."

And she hangs up. At the moment, my mobile hanging loosely from my fingers, I am about seven different kinds of pissed off. Squinting against the bright sun, I trudge back up to Severus' room. Lupin is at the window, arms clasped behind his back. Severus is sleeping again. Well, his eyes are closed, anyway.

"Lupin," I wait until he turns back around, "She wants you to bring me to her."

HPSSHPSS


End file.
